


Nicotine and Remembrance

by pathera



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pathera/pseuds/pathera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What better way to spend a reincarnation than secretly smoking in the school bathrooms?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine and Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 5/9/10 on FF.net. It's been edited a bit from its original but not by much.

Max Carver knows that he’ll find Arthur in the men’s toilets in the last stall, right below a window that has been propped open with a ruler. His intuition is proven right when he opens the door and the scent of cigarette smoke curls around him. He nudges the door closed with his foot and walks forward, pausing in front of the stall, lingering for a moment to watch a thin tendril of smoke curl upwards and through the cracked opening of the window.

 

Then, with a quick smirk, he pushes the stall door open and folds his arms. Arthur jumps satisfyingly, whirling around, and then gives him a dark look. “Christ, Max, I thought you were Mrs. Rouder,” the other teenager says, leaning against the side of the stall and shaking his head.

 

“You’re lucky that I’m not,” he replies easily. He glances at the cigarette dangling from Arthur’s lip, the tip glowing dully as he inhales. “If you get caught again you’ll be suspended. And your father will murder you.”

 

Arthur shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Then I won’t get caught.”

 

“Yeah, because skipping class and smoking in the loo is really the best way to avoid that.” Max says, sarcasm heavy his voice. Arthur ignores him, closing his eyes and tilting his head back, quiet, letting Max examine him. He has a strange kind of double vision looking at Arthur—he sees Arthur now with his reddish brown hair and his hazel eyes and the rounder fullness of his face, but takes very little effort to summon up an Arthur with blond hair and blue eyes and that strong jaw. He wonders if Arthur has the same kind of sense when looking at _him_.

 

Arthur opens his eyes and raises an eyebrow at him, and even though his features are entirely different _nothing_ can ever change those facial expressions that he has down so well.

 

“Are you just going to be a girl and stare at me, _Mer-lin_?”

 

It seems that nothing will ever change his prattishness either.

 

Max rolls his eyes and reaches out, pulling the carton of cigarettes from Arthur’s jacket pocket. He extracts a cigarette and rolls it between his fingers, tucking the carton back into place. He then fishes the lighter out of Arthur’s jean pocket, ignoring the amused, leering look on Arthur’s face. He flicks it open and pulls his thumb along the wheel, fumbling with it long enough that Arthur makes a disgusted noise and pulls it from his fingers, lighting it in one smooth motion.

 

“Thanks,” he says, as he puts the cigarette to his lips. Arthur tucks the lighter back into his pocket.

 

“You could have lit it yourself,” his friend says, and Max knows that he’s not referring to the lighter. He shrugs.

 

“There’s no point in using magic to light a cigarette in a high school bathroom, just so that I can keep you company as you get yourself into trouble.”

 

Arthur smirks at him. “Keeping me company, is that what you’re doing?”

 

“While you get yourself into _trouble_ ,” he emphasizes. “That’s what I’ve always done. You’re like a trouble magnet.”

 

“It’s because I’m so handsome and dashing. No one can resist me or my charm.”

 

 “If your head gets any bigger you’re not going to fit through the door,” he replies, trying to keep the fondness from his voice. He takes a drag of the cigarette, still watching Arthur. He doesn’t actually _like_ smoking, not really. It burns his lungs and it makes him want to cough— _he doesn’t, because he knows Arthur will get that superior look on his face and make fun of him and call him a pansy—_ and it stains his fingers and his teeth and whenever he comes home with his hair and skin and clothing reeking of the smoke his mother shakes her head at him. But he likes _this_. He likes these moments with Arthur, when they retreat into their own part of the world and he can be Merlin and Arthur can be Arthur Pendragon, where they can be sorcerer and king. He spends half of the time wondering if he isn’t mad, if what he thinks are memories of his past life are really just the delusions of insanity, but then he and Arthur slip away from the rest of the world and suddenly he is never surer of his sanity.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the bathroom door begin to open, and there is a split second where he and Arthur stare at each other in horror. Then Arthur—who has always had the faster reflexes—reaches out, grabs him by the collar, and pulls him in, shutting the door quickly. They squish into the cramped space, his body pressed tight against Arthur’s, cigarettes still smoldering in their hands. Arthur quickly puts them out, throwing them into the toilet, and puts a finger to his lips.

 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are. I can smell the smoke,” a voice calls, too close for comfort, and they exchange panicked glances. Arthur mouths silently _it’s Rouder_ , and Max gives a sharp nod in return, closing his eyes because he _knows_ they’re about to get caught, and in such a precarious position…he doesn’t want to think of the consequences.

 

There is the sound of a stall door banging open and it makes them both jump. Arthur hisses, low in his ear— _shit—_ and it almost makes him laugh. After all they’ve been through in the past it is funny that this is what they’ve come down to.

 

Another door bangs open, this one closer in the line, and they flinch. He looks at Arthur, rolls his eyes, and reaches for the door.

 

“Sometimes I hate you,” he hisses, and then pulls the door open wide enough to step out.

 

“Why hello, Mrs. Rouder,” he says in his best polite-and-innocent voice. She stares him down, a seventy-year-old harpy who could make Uther Pendragon wet himself. He’s certain that in a past life she was a sorceress. Hell, in a past life she might have been Nimueh. Certainly, she’s annoying enough.

 

“Giving yourself up, eh Mr. Carver? I’m surprised to find _you_ here. I was certain I would find Mr. Saris.”

 

He shrugs and she scowls at him. “I’m disappointed in you.” Actually, she’s delighted that she’s finally caught him doing something wrong; she’s known that he is Arthur’s accomplice since the beginning and she’s been _dying_ to catch him for something. “Out. My office, Mr. Carver, where we can discuss your _punishment_.”

 

 He shudders a little, because she says that with _far_ too much enthusiasm in her voice.

 

On the way out, he doesn’t glance back at the stall where Arthur is still hiding, he just sighs. Some things never change, it seems.

 

 _(After school, Arthur waits for him, and when he delivers the verdict—detention for two weeks and he’ll probably be grounded for a year thanks to the phone call home to his mother—Arthur claps him on the shoulder and says with a bright smile, “at least detention is better than the stocks.”_

 _Yes, some things never change.)_


End file.
